Excerpts from the Sekrit Diary of Ianto Jones
by L.C. Sulla
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.
1. Chapter 1

Excerpts from The Sekrit Diary of Ianto Jones

**November XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Black Prada, pink shirt, black tie w/silver spots. To do: have drycleaned, some of those spots are new additions.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: No.

**Alien Contact**: 3 captured. One artifact of unknown usage recovered and archived.

**Rift Activity**: Minimal.

**Cleaned**: boardroom, greenhouse, pantry, team workstations, Jack's office. The last took three times as long as all the others combined, because Jack wanted to "help". Told him that is not even close to where I keep the Lysol wipes, but he would not be deterred from checking thoroughly for himself.

**Restocked**: green tea, envelopes, lube. Low on coffee and paperclips.

**Notes**: Received new brochures today for the tourist information office. Very pretty, but missing that extra touch. Took it upon myself, added informational leaflet - "Mr. Prostate - Why He's Man's Best Friend", complete with easy-to-follow diagrams - to the centre of each brochure. Must be sure to take screencaptures of reactions from CCTV footage.

*****

**January XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Grey Armani, blue shirt, grey striped tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Yes, but only for three hours, then contained.

**Alien Contact**: 1 destroyed, 1 captured.

**Rift Activity**: Moderate.

**Cleaned**: N/A

**Restocked**: N/A

**Notes**: Jack died today. Number 12 and counting since I've been at Torchwood 3. Never gets any easier to see. After-party great as always; apparently nothing better for a man's libido than resurrection. Impersonated pretzel once again, but well worth it as usual.

**February XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Ralph Lauren black, purple shirt, black tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: 5% possibility, within acceptable range.

**Alien Contact**: 1 captured (Weevil).

**Rift Activity**: Minimal.

**Cleaned**: Vault, Autopsy Bay, Owen and Toshiko's workstations, Jack's hole.

**Restocked**: Syringes, Latex gloves, memo pads, sugar, milk, condoms.

**Notes**: Suspect Gwen has crush on Jack. Suspect Jack reciprocates. Suspect that would be hot, hope am invited to join in. Argentinian tourist on the make in the tourist office earlier. Would not take no for an answer. Suspect Jack is part caveman, suspect Argentinian tourist has moderate concussion. Suspect Jack likes Angry!Possessive!sex, as was subsequently pounded six ways from Sunday against the shop door. Suspect old women walking by got an eyeful. Could have sworn one of them was watching us and pointing at her Cardiff tourist brochure to her friends.

**April XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Birthday suit.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: World? No. Brain? Yes.

**Alien Contact**: N/A

**Rift Activity**: Nil

**Cleaned**: Jack.

**Restocked**: Jack.

**Notes**: Rift quiet today; Jack told everyone to stay home - except self, having stayed in his hole all night. Before he woke up this morning I decided to check what I suspected. My tape measure must be broken. Not humanly possible. Well, it always FELT... but it must be broken. Yes.

Barely have time to make this entry before he returns. Situation with Gwen has cleared. She won't give up Rhys, and Rhys isn't keen on Man on Man on Woman on Man sex, so it's a no go. However, Jack has asked how I'd like a little maid's outfit for my birthday. Unsure as to how to respond.

*****


	2. Chapter 2

**Excerpts From the Sekrit Diary of Ianto Jones**

**April XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Black on black Prada.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: 95% probability. However, armageddon averted before tea.

**Alien Contact**: 32 time-displaced ancient Greek men and youths.

**Rift Activity**: Moderate to severe.

**Structural damage**: ceiling collapse in greenhouse - result of riftquake.

**Cleaned**: Vaults, pantry, interrogation cells, containment cells.

**Restocked**: Lube. Air freshener. Low on milk and again on lube - see notes for details. Must inquire on purchasing industrial-sized portions.

**Notes**: Rift activity apparently result of temporal ripples from event earlier in Cardiff timeline, possibly dating back to late 17th century. Imminent destruction tending as usual to bring out the worst in Owen. Must once again scrub brain after yet another proposition of end-of-the-world orgy. Must remember to give Jack a good swift kick for seriously considering idea. Ancient Greeks seem to have same instinct - at peak of rift activity, Hub resembled back room of a gay nightclub. Upon successful closing of rift, was frogmarched by Jack into his office, bent over desk, shagged so thoroughly will not walk straight for days. Running out of excuses to rest of the team for bow-legged gait, suspect claim of weekend bull-riding was not believed.

**May XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Day - Baroni black pinstriped, orange shirt, solid black tie. Evening - French maid's outfit.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: No.

**Alien Contact**: 1 destroyed. 1 oddly-shaped artifact of alien or futuristic origin. Artifact indexed and filed for further investigation.

**Rift Activity**: Minimal.

**Cleaned**: Team workstations, Janet's cell, Jack's office, boardroom. Special attention paid to Jack's hole - see notes.

**Restocked**: N/A

**Notes**: Found gift-wrapped package in tourist office with instructions to don the contents upon end of workday and to report to Jack's office. Found panties extremely chaffing, feather duster induces sneezing, but am feeling oh so pretty and gay. Presented self to Jack - found him hard at work, then again, have never found him to be flaccid at work, so no change there. Dusted Jack's prize possessions, was rewarded with salty goodness, but in messy form - must get maid's outfit drycleaned, or outfit will match silver-spotted tie. Jack will foot bill, if he knows what's good for him.

**May XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Black Armani, blue shirt, blue and black striped tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Personal world, yes. Physical world, no.

**Alien Contact**: 1 destroyed.

**Rift Activity**: Minimal

**Cleaned**: Tourist information centre, access tunnels, WC.

**Restocked**: A4 paper, toner cartridges, biscuits, chocolate body paint.

**Notes**: Relief - am not serial killer. Mortification - Jack found and read this diary. Considering burning diary, quitting job, running away and joining Navy. As it is reportedly all about rum, sodomy and the lash, feel am extraordinarily qualified for the job. However, as do not want to trade one gorgeous Captain for another of dubious appearance and quality and skills, will attempt to stick it out... and of course let him stick it in. One day it will be my turn. Really, I'm sure it will.

**June XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Giorgio Valentini grey, red shirt, red and grey tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Yes. Disaster averted before damage incurred this time.

**Alien Contact**: 2 captured (Weevil pair).

**Rift Activity**: Nil, but it was a near thing.

**Cleaned**: N/A

**Restocked**: N/A

**Notes**: Am still in shock. After extensive research into possible alien or futuristic origins of artifact found and archived on May XX, 200X, Jack came to conclusion that it was simply a sex toy from the 46th century, which he had seen before. Namely a buttplug. After sending others out on various duties, yours truly was fitted with said buttplug, after a thorough pounding, Jack having decided he wanted to 'keep himself inside' of me for the night, thereby having me wet and ready for the next time. Which knowing him would have been fifteen minutes at the outside.

HOWEVER.

Upon inserting and then locking the mechanism, we discovered that this was not a futuristic buttplug but rather a futuristic vortex manipulator.

I have no words.

After stopping the rift from opening THROUGH MY ARSE, Jack had the decency to apologize, and has spent the last six hours holding me. I have finally stopped shaking like a little girl long enough from him to make a run to the WC.

I'm asking for a pay raise when he gets back.


	3. Chapter 3

**June XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Claudio Morelli black double-breasted, pink shirt, solid silver tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: No.

**Alien Contact**: Nil

**Rift Activity**: Nil.

**Cleaned**: Vaults, WC, team workstations, kitchen, interrogation cells, containment cells, hallways and access lift, Jack's office, boardroom, greenhouse, tourist info centre, Janet, Myfanwy, subetheric resonator

**Restocked**: Coffee, soap, tissue paper supplies, team hair products.

**Notes**: Jack away at UNIT conference for two days now, leaving Gwen in charge. Everything quiet, have been on cleaning binge to distract self. Fell asleep in Hub after said binge, only to awake to find self humping Jack's RAF greatcoat. Unfortunately woke too late to do anything to stop the inevitable result; had to smuggle coat out of Hub to have it drycleaned. Endured suggestive comments yet again from drycleaning staff about my frequent visits there to have suspicious stains removed. Considering employing retcon next time.

**June XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Ralph Lauren grey, charcol shirt, grey tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: 5% probability, within acceptable limits.

**Alien Contact**: 1 captured (weevil)

**Rift Activity**: minimal

**Cleaned**: autopsy bay, containment cells.

**Restocked**: Weevil spray, weevil kibble, weevil chew toys, weevil pooper scooper bags.

**Notes**: Relatively uneventful during day. Kept busy during long day making suggestive hand motions to passing tourists. Certainly does keep them away.

Jack returned from UNIT conference around 7pm. Was only person at Hub when he arrived, so did not resist humping his leg when he appeared. In short order found self splayed face down on the boardroom table with trousers around ankles. However, in the excitement of Jack's return, forgot that while Jack was away and she was in charge, the CCTV live feed had been set to be relayed to Gwen's apartment. Upon our completion of round one, a disembodied voice emerged from the speakers which suggested that while she had very much enjoyed the show, we may ourselves wish to disengage the boardroom camera. So very nice of her to wait until we were done that round to let us know. As Jack growled irritably above me the last I heard from Casa de Gwen was Rhys' amused voice in the background, "Oi, Jack! Those were some grade-A prime moves there!" Reunion was adjourned to Jacks hole.

*****

**July XX, 200X**

**Attire**: The red flush of embarrassment.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Only my own, thanks.

**Alien Contact**: large metal object indexed and archived

**Rift Activity**: Nil

**Cleaned**: team workstations, kitchen, WC. Disaster that is archival room to be cleaned next.

**Restocked**: basic medical supplies, chloral hydrate, amoxacillin

**Notes**: Finally given a chance to stick it to Jack. Unmitigated disaster. Was indexing today's alien artifact when Jack appeared. Amorous comments ensued, sex was had on archival table. However, used wrong substance as lube, and eventually found self glued to Jack's arse. Glued IN Jack's arse. In struggle to separate ourselves, table breaks, crashes to floor, and teammates come running. NOTHING more embarrassing than being caught glued into your boss's rear end. Luckily Owen had gloop that effectively changes the properties of the glue, and am left sitting naked and mortified on the floor of the archives. How will I face rest of team? Somehow Jack the least affected by this - just smiled and joked through the whole thing. Think will let him stick to topping from now on.

**September XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Black Armani, red shirt, red and black tie, little red UNIT cap.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Was 99%, now 0.2%

**Alien Contact**: 2 destroyed, 1 captured.

**Rift Activity**: minimal

**Cleaned**: N/A

**Restocked**: N/A

**Notes**: Insanity today. World almost destroyed, but Tosh's quick thinking saved the day. Odd type of alien: very like Greek myth of Medusa, but one only turns to stone if one were to see the alien's genitalia. Aliens flashed their way onto military base, turning soldiers to stone hither and yon, running for hidden missile silos. Jack shot them just in time. No adrenaline rush like the probable-nuclear-winter adrenaline rush.

Came back to Hub to find an unmarked package on desk at tourist centre, containing a red cap, like those that UNIT wear. No return address, no note. Decided it went well with today's attire, so donned cap. Said goodnight to team, but when arrived at Jack's office, was pinned by rather animalistic stare. Stared at hat, stared at me. Stared at hat again, stared at me. Promptly found self dragged down Jack's hole - without even a pause to shut the office door - then bent in half and buggered most joyfully. Only slightly mortified by Owen's "Oi, keep it down in there, some of us are trying to work!".

Must remember to wear cap next time he wants me to do inventory.


	4. Chapter 4

**September XX, 200X - AKA D-Day**

**Attire**: Day - Joseph Abboud grey tick, orange shirt, silver and black striped tie. Evening - indigo Hugo Boss Arod Jumper and jeans.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Not as such.

**Alien Contact**: Nil

**Rift Activity**: Nil.

**Cleaned**: Organized office supplies successively in order of use, size, cost, color and substance. Then over again from scratch.

**Restocked**: Tea, sugar (cubed), Weevil home pregnancy test, retcon. Low on milk.

**Notes**: Quiet day on the job. Jack doing paperwork and making chastising calls to MI5 and CIA. Sick of watching Owen surf online for porn while Tosh and Gwen discuss Janet's upcoming nuptials to Kristof. Weevil romance fails to captivate. Was stressing over impending date with Jack, so whiled away remaining hours photocopying arse and other bits, mailing them to various city council members with Owen's flat as the return address.

With 7pm came Jack to my flat. Was presented with box of candy (penis-shaped chocolates), bottle of wine (Montrachet 1978), and within two minutes and 35 seconds, a handful of come. Jack received my own gift to him of the same in a considerably better time, after which point we disembarked for the restaurant (Signor Valentino's). Negotiations were in the offing on the walk there; agreed to keep date as 'innocent' as possible, to 'get to know each other better'. Made it as far as appetizers; discussion came round to today's use of photocopier and shortly found self escorted to restroom on Jack's arm. Posh businessman ejected, door locked and vigorous counter-top sex had. Were ourselves ejected for noise pollution. Decided to call it an early night, followed Jack back to the Hub, and am spending the night in his hole. Really, his hole is the only place to be - must be sure to clean it tomorrow.

**October XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Black Prada, red shirt, simple black tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: 9.4% - keeping a close eye on it.

**Alien Contact**: 1 captured and returned through the rift to own time/place. 3 suspicious metal artifacts indexed and archived.

**Rift Activity**: Moderate, but closely monitored.

**Cleaned**: Jack.

**Restocked**: Hair gel, laundry detergent, lube.

**Notes**: Brought Jack home to meet the parents tonight. They had been hinting at wanted to meet my 'significant other' for some time. I denied any serious involvement, but to no avail: as they put it, "we've not seen you this happy since you visited from London three years ago, we know you're in love, please let us meet her". Decided not to disabuse them of the notion that my current squeeze is female. They would find out for themselves soon enough.

Now not sure if whole event was sweeping success or utter disaster. Jack hit on mother, groped father. Parents were simultaneously charmed and horrified. After dinner pretty much had to beat Jack away with a stick when he followed me to the WC and tried to initiate our usual 8-times-a-day shenanigans. Jack may have loosened me up a bit sexually, but I still don't care for a shag three feet from my parents.

Have returned to flat and am now in kitchen writing entry. Jack sprawled exanimate in bedroom after buggering me senseless just inside front door.

Looking back, think it might have been a mistake to wear UNIT cap tonight.

*****

**October XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Grey Armani, black shirt, grey tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding** Once again, just personal world.

**Alien Contact**: Artifact of unknown synthetic material discovered in bay. Indexed and archived for further analysis.

**Rift Activity**: Minimal.

**Cleaned**: Autopsy bay, archives, vaults, containment cells.

**Restocked**: humiliation

**Notes**: Greeted this morning by Owen's overbearing smirk. Called Jack and I together to computer terminal to witness his great find. Appears that Owen, typing in the words "Cardiff gay public sex" into the RedTube search engine, came across a video of Jack and yours truly. Having sex. Gay sex. Gay sex in public. In Cardiff.

Appears that Signor Valentino's Italian Restaurant has CCTV in their toilets. Must admit to wondering exactly why Owen would be typing in those particular keywords, but that is a thought to dwell on another night, when I am not dying of mortification.

For am indeed mortified. Owen played video back. It's awful - you can absolutely 100% tell that it's us - our faces are plain as day. Now know why we were kicked out for noise pollution. I'm howling like a cat in heat, Jack's grunting and puffing like a rutting bull. We're both sweating like stuck pigs, and now I'm running out of similes like... someone running out of similes. Yes, I'm mortified. But Jack... Jack's laughing. Couldn't care less. God, what I wouldn't give to have that kind of confidence.

**November XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Waterlogged jeans and red Calvin Klein Jumper.

**World in Danger of Imploding** Yes, but now is not.

**Alien Contact**: 842 angry rampaging squid.

**Rift Activity**: Insane.

**Cleaned**: N/A -- To be cleaned: EVERYTHING.

**Restocked**: N/A -- To be restocked: squid bait.

**Notes**: Rampaging alien squid. _Sentient_ rampaging squid. How Jack deals with situations like this with such aplomb I will never know. But he does, and once again it's after-party time! Since Hub is such a mess, have decided that after going to the pub with the rest of the team for drinks, will take Jack back to my flat, even though I will miss his hole. First, however, have to stop by parent's place to water plants and feed goldfish, as they're on holiday in Bermuda, I'll take Jack up and show him my childhood room while we're there, too. Will take no more than a couple of minutes, then home to bed!

_later_ - My god. Is there anything dirtier than being nailed in every possible position in your old bedroom at home? And I... I will never look at stuffed animals the same way again.


	5. Chapter 5

Excerpts From the Sekrit Diary of Ianto Jones - #5

**December XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Prada black with pinstripes, coral blue shirt, blue and silver tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: 99.9% - work in progress

**Alien Contact**: several dozen of what Jack says are Salfters, a warrior race from several galaxies over. Best way to describe them - fire-breathing cows with opposable thumbs and a powerful hatred of humanoid species.

**Rift Activity**: Severe.

**Cleaned**: N/A

**Restocked**: ink toner, local bus schedules for tourist booth, steaks **the murdered flesh of superior creatures** for Jack's dinner. Coming to regret the last.

**Notes**: Have been abducted by Salfters. Am being held in some kind of crashed spacecraft. Have large bump on head, hoping do not have concussion. Having apparently been scanned for weapons and gun seized, have been allowed pen and diary which happened to have on me. Have also been allowed to keep stopwatch, which is indescribable comfort.

Day started fine. Woke up in Jack's hole, he woke up in mine; do love this somnophilia business - Jack is still thanking himself for introducing me to it. After jolly good rogering, did errands and archiving left over from last night; was marinating steak **the murdered flesh of superior creatures** when rift alarms went off. Salfters causing major destruction in Cardiff city centre - many casualties as civilian populace tends not to take cows with rayguns seriously. Jack says most important is to keep them from becoming angry enough to breathe fire - the fire has power of nuclear blast. How became their hostage not totally sure. Was following Tosh at a sprint when everything went black.

Do not understand Salfterian, but due to body language and outraged sniffing, fear am being held for murder of their distant cousins.

Shit, Salfters demanding to see what I've writ--

**December XX, 200X**

**Attire**: SERIOUS RELIEF.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Nil. Thanks to Slappy the Gay Cowboy - see notes.

**Alien Contact**: Salfters. Angry Salfters. Violent and horny Salfters.

**Rift Activity**: Minimal.

**Cleaned**: N/A

**Restocked**: N/A

**Notes**: Saved from intimate knowledge of Salfter anatomy at last minute by Jack arriving at crash site wearing cowboy hat, chaps, spurs and one hell of a Texan accent. Proclaimed himself to be "Slappy the gay cowboy", and began sexy cowpoke striptease. This distracted the Salfters long enough for the rest of the team to free me and Jack to operate my old friend the buttplug-shaped rift manipulator, sending shocked, outraged Salfters back to own galaxy.

After-party at pub was fun; walk back to Hub peppered with whistles and catcalls to Jack, who seemed to be enjoying the attention. However, feel the right to be smug, as I was the one who got to ride his mustang all night long.

*****

**January XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Armani steel grey, orange shirt, grey tie with orange specs. Refused to wear tuxedo.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Minimal

**Alien Contact**: Two love-struck Weevils.

**Rift Activity**: Negligible.

**Cleaned**: Maximum-sized, previously unused containment cell.

**Restocked**: Flowers. Weevil spray, Weevil kibble, _The Joy of Weevil Sex_.

**Notes**: Janet has wed Kristoff, joined in Weevil matrimony by Jack at the unending badgering of Gwen and Tosh. Of course was the one stuck cleaning and getting supplies for this travesty of an event. Ceremony almost ground to a halt when Kristoff lunged at Jack and attempted to rip his throat out. Luckily had stocked up on Weevil spray and managed to collar the bridegroom before Jack was killed in front of me for the 13th time. Happy couple were escorted to their new digs for their honeymoon.

Was ready to classify day as total write-off, but found Jack watching Weevil sex on CCTV and subsequently found self in Jack's hole being subject of kinky Weevil-sex inspired experiments. Those Weevils know how to party! No wonder there's so many of them.

*****

**January XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Ralph Lauren black on black.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Nope.

**Alien Contact**: Argentinian tourist.

**Rift Activity**: Nil

**Cleaned**: Team workstations (although am going to refuse point blank to clean Owen's desk any further if I find any more "results" of his surfing for porn), hallways and lift, kitchenette.

**Restocked**: Tourist brochures, Splenda, lube.

**Notes**: Had visit from Argentinian tourist I wrote about on February XX, 200X. Was surprised, as jack had retconed him after, uh, showing him the door. Apparently he had been rifling through his old Cardiff mementos and came across my old "Mr Prostate - Why He's A Man's Best Friend" leaflet, and it jogged his memory. All he could remember was that he had picked up the brochure here, and upon entering began a rather Python-esque exchange with me involving me, my prostate, a large flightless bird and a water buffalo. What happened then could have been a carbon copy of last time, with Jack pounding down the hall to eject the usurper, and pounding into the front desk -- all in all a territorial display that would have put a Siamese Fighting Fish to shame.

_Later_ - Jack should have controlled his anger long enough to disable the CCTV in the tourist office. Definitely not cleaning Owen's workstation anymore.

*****


	6. Chapter 6

Excerpts From the Sekrit Diary of Ianto Jones - #6

**February XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Prada black, rose shirt, black tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Yes, disaster narrowly averted.

**Alien Contact**: blowfish, "Captain John Hart" aka the most irritating, aggravating, embolism-inducing humanoid creature I have yet the misfortune to meet in this lifetime.

**Rift Activity**: moderate - mostly caused by idiot boy.

**Cleaned**: Team and team's clothing (it's so hard to get fish brains out), autopsy bay, interior of the SUV.

**Restocked**: blood sample tubes, common sense for Jack, gauze, antibiotics

**Notes**: Finally caught up with the blowfish. He was becoming well-known around town, and we couldn't have that. When he turned up at the tourist office yesterday, clutching my "Mr. Prostate" leaflet and demanding a hands-on demonstration, I knew something would end up having to be done one way or the other. The evening ended with an large-sized order of charred sushi.

On that note, JACK'S BACK. He pranced onto the scene in typical Jack style, and despite all my resolutions to give him the cold shoulder if/when he returned, he had his tongue down my throat and his cock up my arse in what has to be a inter-galactic record. After being told by Owen, Tosh, Gwen, and an opera-going couple to "oh my GOD, get a ROOM!", and shocked into stunned silence five successive passing prostitutes, we finished up and joined the rest of the team inside the Hub.

The less I say about Jack's old 'partner' the better. My head hurts from all of my eye-rolling. I just couldn't help it. But I think I'll have the last word. Don't want to go into too much detail, but suffice to say that within 15 minutes of his passing through the rift, his underwear is going to start emanating a scent that will make him the focus of the aggressive sexual attentions of every creature bearing insectile DNA for a 30 mile radius. With any luck there will be a praying mantis-related alien out there who will eat him post-coitus.

PS - Jack asked me on an official 'date' tonight. I agreed after making it plain that an office-based date was not something I would enjoy. The last time we did that, it was a nightmare. I always say that I'll try anything once, but stapler-play is one of those experiences that are best not repeated. And there are some places that paper cuts are just. not. appreciated.

**February XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Armani steel grey, blue shirt, black and silver tie

**World in Danger of Imploding**: No

**Alien Contact**: One body of a Weevil recovered, Owen performing autopsy. One artifact of unknown origin/used indexed and held for testing.

**Rift Activity**: No.

**Cleaned**: Pterodactyl's nest, hothouse, Jack's office, Jack's hole.

**Restocked**: several lengths of rubber tubing, lube, five industrial-sized spindles of thread of various fruity colours, and a portable weaving loom. Band aids.

**Notes**: Honestly, never know what Jack will come up with next, and what inspiration he will take from the aliens he meets. Today was treated to the human approximation of tentacle sex. Innovative to say the least!

Must admit to being confused by Jack's request for the loom and thread. But he had it brought in so we could experience "Timelord sex". I think that having been caught in the act several times by various members of the team has inured me to the worst of my embarrassment on those occasions. But today was especially bizarre. Perhaps Gwen could have interrupted either before or after I was woven bodily into the loom? And of my time in the loom, did she really need to come in while I was being fucked most vigorously by a Jack in a quivering hormonal frenzy? I'm all for bondage and all, but I'm hardly an exhibitionist. However, once she had left, Jack settled in for the long run, and I don't think I've ever come harder.

**March XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Nothing

**World in Danger of Imploding**: my world, HELL YES.

**Alien Contact**: Nil

**Rift Activity**: low

**Cleaned**: N/A

**Restocked**: tea cups (see notes)

**Notes**: Can't stop feeling around my crotch. Never want to repeat this day. All Owen's fault. Never again. NEVER AGAIN.

The good Doctor decided he had discovered what the artifact recovered on February XX, 200X does. Called it a singularity scalpel. Gathering us all to witness his brilliance, he pointed the blasted thing at an egg carton, attempting to vapourize the couple of eggs within without damaging the surrounding carton. The thing beeped, whirred, and I suddenly felt my trousers grow roomy.

Yes.

My bollocks.

HE VAPOURIZED MY FUCKING TESTICLES.

I shrieked like a little girl, and promptly began whipping all the tea cups I could find at his head. Can only guess that my lack of balls affected my aim - was now also throwing like a little girl, and not a single one hit him.

Luckily for me, there's a rewind button on the thing. OH THANK GOD. Jack has been holding me all night, groping me every few minutes just to make sure for himself that my boys are still there. I think this affected him as much as it did me.

If Owen ever points that thing at me again I think I'll shit myself.

PS. Jack's VIP visitor (one Martha Jones) is due at the Hub tomorrow. Must remember to confirm the hotel reservations.

..............................

**March XX, 200X**

**Attire**: Ralph Lauren navy, white shirt, red tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding**: Not yet but it's still early.

**Alien Contact**: unidentified metal case recovered. Indexed and archived.

**Rift Activity**: No.

**Cleaned**: Team workstations, vaults, mortuary, autopsy bay.

**Restocked**: various implements for keeping repairing our dead doctor: band-aids, gauze, duct tape, staple gun. Glade Plug-ins for the Owen's workspace, air fresheners to hand around his neck. He really doesn't smell, but it's such fun to tease him.

**Notes**: Don't think Owen can understands complex sexual relationships. Resent his inferring that Jack and I are just fuck-buddies. Suspect that he is just jealous, as he's not getting any sexing, and isn't likely to, being that he's dead. He's bearing up very well though, considering the situation.

Brought up the "Shagging Jack" comment to Jack himself, and my thoughts on Owen's future without a sex life. He smirked, stated that he hoped I wasn't angling for a threesome, and under my reflexive gagging he then muttered something about "drawing the line at necrophilia". Who would have thought?

...........................


	7. Chapter 7

**Excerpts From the Sekrit Diary of Ianto Jones - #7**

**April XX, 200X**

**Attire:** Gucci dark grey stretch wool 2-button suit, light grey shirt, black tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding:** Not unless the local pet store's closed.

**Alien Contact:** What Jack identified as Carrionites while he still had the chance

**Rift Activity:** moderate to severe

**Cleaned:** Team workstations, medical bay, archives G through I, old rabbit cage found in sub-subbasement

**Restocked:** A4 grade copy paper, kitty litter, cat kibble.

**Notes:** Hub currently in uproar. We are at the moment leaderless, since we cannot count on Jack, who at the moment can't say anything for himself beyond "Ack" and various chucking sounds. No one is quite sure what happened - were monitoring outburst of rift activity seeming to originate sometime earlier in time, Jack having guessed sometime in the 17th century, when a hideous flying woman's form appeared on multiple CCTV screens. Jack uttered the word "Carrionites", and his clothes fell into a wriggling heap on the floor. Further frantic investigation showed Carrionites to be a species of humanoid beings that use word-based science or "witchcraft" to reshape reality.

And oh, I'd say Jack's reality is amply reshaped. But to be fair, must say that his personal attractiveness translates quite interestingly into ferret form - he is now a beautiful 3 pound sable bouncing ball of energy.

Have set up corner of Jack's office as a temporary living space due to his inability to climb down the rungs to his own usual hole. Am going to stay the night to keep him company - I feel I owe it to him, since upon his transformation I assumed his conscious mind had also been transformed, and attempted to put him in the old rabbit cage I found downstairs with a bowl of kibble and a little litter box. Am now nursing several deep gashes in my hands and am trying to placate a very, very angry ferret Jack with shoulder scratches and fresh chicken liver.  
Hoping Jack isn't still expecting that blowjob I owe him from forfeiting on our bet last night...

..........................

**April XX, 200X**

**Attire:** Armani navy blue suit, black shirt, silver and black tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding:** Not currently

**Alien Contact:** None

**Rift Activity:** Minute burps and burbles breaking through, but beyond that, nothing.

**Cleaned:** Self, Jack, toilets, litter box

**Restocked:** chew toys, fresh lamb shanks.

**Notes:** Day three with Jack in ferret form. Gwen, as usual, has taken command with Jack's tacit consent - or what we think was consent. There was a certain amount of stalking, jumping and rigid dancing in response to the question, but it looked overall to be a positive reaction and he hasn't tried to eat her feet yet, so we're going with it.  
Our friend Martha Jones of UNIT has been called in, and is on her way - she tells Gwen that she's had some previous experience with Carrionites, so we have some small degree of hope that we'll get our leader back.

Hoping it will be soon. Am really fine with all the leg-humping that goes on at night, but the constant giving of a helping tongue during my masturbatory sessions has me feeling downright filthy. I dare not ask him to stop though, because the last time broached the subject, he _did_ try to eat my feet.

...................

**May XX, 200X**

**Attire:** burgundy Egyptian cotton dress shirt, plum necktie, suit by Alfredo.

**World in Danger of Imploding:** If this damn music won't stop, _something _will be imploding, that's for sure.

**Alien Contact:** 3 young weevils

**Rift Activity:** low

**Cleaned:** the archives, R through T. There is no end to the dust. NO END!

**Restocked:** ear plugs, Swiffer dust cloths

**Notes:** Just when things were getting back to normal after Martha rescued Jack from his ferrety fate, this happens.

I have a personal soundtrack. We all do, every one of us who was in the hub this morning is suffering from this. Jack thinks it has something to do with one of the folders I opened - he seems to remember this occurring before, some time in the 40's. He assures me that it wore off in a few days, and it really wasn't that bad. I don't know how much longer I can put up with it though - if it was 1940's-era music, or even current, it might not be too bad. But somehow the bloody thing has gotten stuck in the 70's and we're living through the Best of the Bee Gees. If I see Jack swagger into the room to "Stayin' Alive" one more time, so help me god....

Later---

Oh god, I'll never live it down. I was with Jack, and mid-shag my soundtrack burst into "How Deep Is Your Love" on repeat. Mortifying.

**May XX, 200X**

**Attire:** Ralph Lauren black muted pinstripe, orange shirt, black tie.

**World in Danger of Imploding:** Not yet, give it a chance.

**Alien Contact:** unidentified rubber device recovered. Indexed and archived.

**Rift Activity:** No.

**Cleaned:** Archives Y and Z. DONE. Finally. Pantry, board room and hot house as well.

**Restocked:** Plant food, new spritz bottle for Owen, since something seems to have gnawed apart his old one.

**Notes:** Am a little worried about Jack. He seems to be having a few held-over symptoms of ferret-ness. He has developed a bothersome habit of biting me on the neck when we're going at it. Not just nipping, but biting _and holding on_. And the other day I walked into his office to find him lying flat on the floor like a large, Jack-shaped speed-bump. It's not normal, I tell you, and I think I'd better give Martha a call again.

In other news, caught Owen digging for deleted CCTV footage again. I don't know what he's trying to prove, but it's making me nervous. If he ever gets his hands on any of the footage from the last month or two my life won't be worth living anymore.

...........................


	8. Chapter 8

**Excerpts From The Sekrit Diary of Ianto Jones #8**

**June XX, 20XX**

**Attire:** Pretty spring frock in blue floral pattern, white virginal poke bonnet

**World In Danger of Imploding:** Looking at Jack , it seems _something's_ certainly in danger of imploding.

**Aliens Encountered:** One alien of the slimy kind destroyed. Currently uncatagorized - this was a new one, even for Jack. See notes.

**Rift activity:** significant upset originating in north end of Cardiff

**Cleaned:** Me

**Restocked:** Nothing, was lucky to get home in one piece and with my virtue intact!

**Notes**: Aformentioned slime creature caused ruckus up by St. Fagan's Open Air Museum. Foolishly attempted to do the humane thing, and capture said creature, but discovered when it exploded at my touch that the slime it was composed of corrodes fabric. Left standing in the nude before of large crowd of summer tourists equipped with broadcast-quality HD video cameras. How do I know that this will end up on the internet?

Staff at St Fagan's very nice to lend me clothes, but why a man's outfit couldn't be found for me I can't fathom. But, of course, horror did not end there. SUV broke down in Museum parking lot, so had find to find our own way back. Managed to catch a lift with the horse and buggy after flashing some leg at the driver. Very uncomfortable ride back with Jack eyeing me lustfully up and down; suspect he has designs on my purity!

Later: Was right, am now utterly debauched. Think Jack was feeling reminiscent of old times, for he would not let me undress nor take off the poke-bonnet, and proceeded to set scene with gas lanterns and a period music CD. Will never be able to listen to Welsh Male Voice Choirs ever again without thinking of sweat and semen and _Jack omg so hot._

**June XX, 20XX**

**Attire:** Armani black pinstripe with rose shirt and plum necktie.

**World In Danger of Imploding:** Nope.

**Aliens Encountered:** Unidentified metal object recovered from pub in Splott. Indexed and archived.

**Rift activity:** Jittery.

**Cleaned:** Kitchen, hothouse, entry tunnels and tourist office.

**Restocked:** Staples, weevil kibble, paper clips, lube. Tap shoes and ballet slippers.

**Notes:** Entire team came over very strange today. Cannot do anything, whether it be feed the weevils or pick up alien objects where the rift has dropped them, without it being done in as a sychonized dance routine. Tosh, Owen and I recovered the above-mentioned artifact whilst doing a country line-dance, and the weevils were fed with the added benefit of a vigorous tap-dance by yours truly. Just to walk across the Plass with Jack was impossible; we belly-danced the whole way. Attracted quite the crowd. Several of whom pointed out at me saying, "look, it's that guy from the Youtube videos..."

Bastards.

Anyway, Jack says not to worry, this has happened to Torchwood operatives before, and it should be over in a day or two. Hopefully is over sooner rather than later, because each new dance is different, and we've done most of the usual routines and my luck, strip-teasing will be next.

Later: Discovered Owen has put together a montage of clips of my naked self at St. Fagan's that he's found online into a music video to use as the Torchwood screensaver. Video set to the lovely strains of "Sexy Back". The mortification never ends.

**July XX, 20XX**

**Attire:** Levi's jeans and olive green Ralph Lauren jumper.

**World In Danger of Imploding:** -0.5%, hence our thinking that we could get away for a few days.

**Aliens Encountered:** Nil

**Rift activity:** Nil

**Cleaned:** Jack's wounds; other than that, nothing. We're on vacation.

**Restocked:** Nil, see above.

**Notes:** After the humiliations of last month, I decided I needed some time off. Invited Jack to come with, as he never seems to get away from Torchwood, and I thought it might be good for him. Wrong! Jack has had a run of bad luck unlike anything I've seen before.

Deciding to face my fear of the Brecon Beacons, got us a little room above a pub in Brecon as a base to explore the area. Took Jack out horseback riding up Pen Y Fan - whereupon he was kicked off his horse and dragged bodily up a stony incline, dangling by the foot. Caught up with him and tried to take care of his injuries, only to be attacked by what appeared to be a rabid sheep. We managed to beat it off (pun not intended), but it came back with it's mates. Jack sacrificed himself to save my life, throwing me atop my horse and taking on the sheep himself, ultimately being trampled to death by little cloven hooves. He came back to life 45 minutes later, lying on a cot in the tack room at the horse barn. Upon regaining consciousness, of course Jack being Jack promptly and without pause, buggered me most happily amongst the saddles and bridles. This, only to have the farm proprietor walk in, catch us at it, and throw us bodily off his premises. Found rental car tires to be slashed, tried to go back to farm to call for help, but was greeted with a shotgun, so had to walk back to town on foot. On the way, Jack was brained by stray antique furniture flying off the back of some little old lady's car. Came back to life on side of road in only 15 minutes that time. Continued walking, watching for cars, only for Jack to be murdered by ten-year-old boys dropping rocks on his head from an overpass. Of course thought we were safe when we got to town, only to see Jack hit by a bus in front of the pub.

Am now at the Brecon pub packing. Jack hiding under the bed until we leave. Probably it's for the best. He's no glutton for punishment.

**July XX, 20XX**

**Attire:** rather rumpled Prada black on black.

**World In Danger of Imploding:** You never know - they say disaster follows the Doctor everywhere...

**Aliens Encountered:** One weevil captured, two other chased back into the sewers.

**Rift activity:** Minimal

**Cleaned:** Jack's hole.

**Restocked:** Jack's porn collection.

**Notes:** Remember the unidentified rubber item I indexed and archived back on May XX, 20XX? Jack realized that it was in fact the alien version of a French Tickler and decided to try it out with me tonight. Honestly, I really should know better than to let Jack put any alien artifacts anywhere near my bits, but in the heat of passion that man can get me to do _anything_.

Have come to very much regret that, of course, as it turns out that the rubber artifact is most emphatically _not_ an Alien French Tickler, but is in fact a distress beacon audible across the stars only to Timelords. So, with much pomp and circumstance and loud "vworp"-ing noises a blue police box appeared in Jack's quarters, in the middle of which Jack was at that moment pounding into _my_ quarters. Hindquarters, that is. Not exactly the way I wanted to meet the famous Doctor: naked and impaled on Jack's cock. Not that the Doctor seemed terribly surprised. I believe his only comment was, "Jack, _again_? Oh stop it now."

Am sitting in basement writing this, attempting to regain my dignity. Must get back to them though - do not want Jack taking off with the Doctor without my being there to say goodbye.

---------------------------


	9. Chapter 9

**Excerpts From The Sekrit Diary of Ianto Jones #9**

**April XX, 20XX**

**Attire:** Ralph Lauren black pinstripe, red shirt, black and purple tie.

**World In Danger of Imploding:** Not so much.

**Aliens Encountered:** 2 Vorgarth paper-eaters, both bagged and tagged

**Rift activity:** Nil

**Cleaned:** No time for cleaning!

**Restocked:** No time for restocking!

**Notes**: Finished my and Jack's personal income tax. Just barely got them in the postbox before the deadline. Was doing fine for time until got in argument with Jack over what could and could not be claimed - no, I said, you cannot claim lube, silicone toys, various dildos and brothel expenses. He begged to differ, and showed me past returns...seems I was wrong.

Of course, reading what he claimed in 1989 ended with vigorous sex among the forms, just like last year. Hope do not receive snarky complaints about soiled paper from the government again. So, so mortifying.

*****************************

**May XX, 20XX**

**Attire:** Tailor-made grey pinstripe, white shirt, blue and black tie.

**World In Danger of Imploding:** Not my world at least - don't know about the Queen's though.

**Aliens Encountered:** Nil

**Rift activity:** Minor fluctuations

**Cleaned:** Pretty much the entire hub, as Jack was not around to distract me.

**Restocked:** Entire kitchen re-stocked. Plus lube - new, improved cherry-flavoured.

**Notes**: Jack has been sent for sensitivity training, after hitting on the wrong person. Apparently the Queen does not enjoy blatant innuendo paired with close, personal, full-body hip to hip, pelvis to pelvis hugs with a few grinding thrust thrown in for good measure. Who would have guessed? Can't wait to see how Jack progresses in this latest venture.

Later - 8pm - Jack is back already, apparently after seducing and bedding his sensitivity training instructors. All 4 of them. At once. Yes, that's Jack all right.

**May XX, 20XX**

**Attire:** birthday suit

**World In Danger of Imploding:** Not today, thanks.

**Aliens Encountered:** 2 weevils, bagged and tagged

**Rift activity:** Minimal

**Cleaned:** Nothing, it's my birthday!

**Restocked:** Cake!

**Notes**: Tonight my dreams came true. Jack gave me the best present ever. He's always having me dress up, but tonight he really came though for me.

I had told Jack about going to see this show in London when I was a kid, a musical called "Matador", which had the most delicious man in the lead role, in a Spanish bull-fighting outfit. I remember masturbating fervently for weeks after that show, thinking of that man and his get-up.

Needless to say, when I arrived at the Hub this morning, Jack greeted me in full Matador-guise, sang for six acts and finished me up with a stellar blowjob on the roof of the Welsh Assembly.

And that's not all. Tonight, he says, I get to be the bull. Score!!

******************************

**June XX, 20XX**

**Attire:** M&S solid black - white shirt, grey tie. Need to stay on top of the laundry problem, damnit.

**World In Danger of Imploding:** No. Are we having better luck than usual, or what?

**Aliens Encountered:** One questionably-shaped metal artifact. Indexed and archived. And if Jack thinks he's getting anywhere near my privates with it, he's sorely mistaken.

**Rift activity:** Minuscule hiccoughs

**Cleaned:** Deepest, darkest storage room on sub-basement 5 of hub.

**Restocked:** Swiffer products.

**Notes**: Oh, what I have discovered today! And we all thought Jack came by his perfect body with no effort at all!

Digging deep into the Torchwood refuse, have discovered Jack's hidden cache of work-out equipment. Best of all was the Thighmaster (!) and Torchwood Official Workout Program VHS tape, featuring Jack in full 1980's-era work-out gear, with obligatory sweat bands and leg-warmers, squeezing, thrusting and grinding his way to bad 80's music.

Shocking, how erotic Jack looks on his side, squeezing his thighs around a big red contraption... shit, where's the lube again?


End file.
